Memoirs of a Goddess
by Grace E. Dragondale
Summary: A recently-ascended goddess tells the tale of her mortal life; from the noble girl who would nearly break her spirit, to the Drow man whose fate would make her thirst for revenge against another diety.


Author's Notes: All right, here's the deal: my wondrous DM, Neir, recently acquired the book on Deities and Demigods, and decided to run the usual crew through a campaign where we all made up gods to use as characters. Being a fanfiction author, I should have known that this would follow. This is the history of my goddess, Merania, but not her deeds as a deity. Instead, this is the story of her mortal life.   
  
Now, the problem with that is that she had a few shady episodes in the past. You may have seen a sign of this already, *points to the rating* but I'm going to warn you again. This story contains violence, colorful language, extremely suggestive material (though nothing TOO graphic), angst, and just generally all sorts of things your parents would have disapproved of when you were a child. (Not really in this chapter, but later on.) So, if you can't take it, don't read this, simple as that.  
  
I do not own Dungeons and Dragons. If I did, drow men would get more respect, Terrasques would be more numerous (okay, I know you think that's a bad idea. But they're fun. Trying to find ways to destroy them makes for some really creative solutions.), and you would already have HEARD of my little deity. Don't sue me, I have nothing you want but this computer and a little bag of shiny green dice, and I need those things to survive. The plot of this story and most of the characters, however, DO belong to me. Please don't take them without asking. If you want to ask, or give me some feedback on this, (I like feedback. I even accept flames.) You can e-mail me at teamrocket71@hotmail.com, or catch me on AOL Instant Messenger, for which my name is MevoraEmbyrgild. Or reviewing is always nice.  
  
That concludes the disclaimer/explaination section. Enjoy the story.  
***  
Chapter 1- Dalerider Manor  
  
I spent my childhood in the household of two bitter old women who considered me "a smudge on the Family Honor" -no matter how many stains I could scrub from the floor, walls, and dishes. They called themselves my "aunties", though I was not told why for many years. My aunties, in fact, told me little more than they believed I needed to know.   
  
On a regular basis, they would send me to the homes of those of wealth or status, and I would be asked to do several tasks there. More often than not, however, I was not asked. Rather, some well-dressed woman would issue orders to me. I was told sternly by my aunties not to verbally answer these finely-clothed people with anything but one word, followed by "m'lord" or "m'lady". So I spoke little, and little was expected of me. The ladies and gentlemen always gave me my orders slowly and loudly, often ending every other sentence with "Do you understand?". They did not seem overly upset by the fact that I was assumed to be stupid. No, it appeared to comfort them greatly.   
  
Many of these noble families grew to feel about me as they would a beloved pet. A family known as the Daleriders, in particular, seemed attached to me and I, in turn, came to idolize their daughter, Riane. She was twelve when I began working in her manor, and thus was proportionally my age. Looking back, I know that she was quite cruel to me, but I would never have known it then.   
  
She was always dressed in fine white silks, her fingers glittering with golden rings. She was forever a changeling, shrieking at servants one moment, only to speak softly when she saw her father in the next. I always imagined that the things she called me- "Halfie", "Catear", and the like-were the nicknames she had given to me because she cared for me, and I smiled when she used them. I worked in her home, weekly, for many years, but it was not until her sixteenth birthday party that I was to discover how Riane truly viewed me.   
  
Lord Dalerider arrived at my home early that morning, and my aunties were quick to send me to my room and lock the door behind me. I did not listen to the conversation between them and the nobleman, I would never have done such a thing. My aunties had always told me it was wicked to eavesdrop, and called it a sin, despite the fact that they neglected to tell me what a "sin" was. I was trusting in those days, and simply assumed that sins were something like venomous spiders.  
  
Whatever they discussed, I was pleasantly surprised when Lord Dalerider led me out of the house. He had always been a welcome sight to me, he seemed the very picture of what a middle-aged gentleman should be. He had long since retired from the battlefield, but a shortsword with an ornate sheath and hilt hung at his belt. He was of average height, for a human, but was still quite tall from my point of view. His build was powerful, and I could remember Riane complaining that he spent hours a day practicing his old sword strokes. He was nearly as great a figure to me as his daughter was, and thus I was absolutely ecstatic to have the gentleman lift me to a place in front of him on the back of a chestnut mare.   
  
The day's delights were not yet over, as I was to find when we arrived at the manor. The servants rushed about fanatically, and all were dressed in new clothes. The scent of spices wafted about, coming from the direction of the kitchen, and many of the servants hung sashes of brightly-colored fabric and shining glass ornaments on the walls.   
  
"Merania," Lord Dalerider said in his kind, quiet tone, "Do you know what day it is?"  
  
"Yes, m'lord," I replied, being certain to keep my eyes respectively downcast despite my fascination with the activity in the manor.  
  
"Then tell me. What day is it?"  
  
I looked up at him, speechless. In all my time at the manor, this was the first time one of the gentlefolk had asked me an open-ended question.  
  
"I know you understood me, Merania," he said, a firmer edge coming to his voice, "Now, answer my question. What day is it?"  
  
"I-It's Lady Riane's birthday, m'lord," I told him shakily.  
  
"There now," he said with a smile, "You have a pretty voice after all. We want you to use it a little tonight."  
  
"M'lord...?"  
  
His expression was reassuring as he placed a hand on my shoulder and shepherded me to, of all places, the quarters of Riane's tutor- the woman who had taught my idol all she knew of etiquette, grace, and elegance. When I had passed the cloaked, hooded woman before, I had done so with the greatest reverence I could muster. Had I known, back then, what prayer was, I would have looked to her as my goddess. I had never seen the great being's entire face. She wore a charcoal gray veil over the bottom half of her face, and her indigo hood covered her brow. I caught only the occasional glimpse of a raven-black curl or a deep-green eye.  
  
I froze in front of the door as Lord Dalerider opened it, and he must have sensed my uncertainty.  
  
"Go on now," he gently instructed, giving me a pat on the head and a little push into the room, "Don't keep Mistress Altaia waiting."  
  
"Well," Altaia's voice said as the door behind me closed, "Let us see what we have to work with.  
  
I was too stunned to speak as she walked forward; she still wore her veil, but her hood was down, and I was baffled by what I saw. I had always assumed that she was old, but her shoulder-length curls showed no trace of gray or white. Nothing, however, surprised me as greatly as the sight of her ears. They were pointed even more distinctly than mine.  
  
"Yes child," she said in her flowing contralto, "I am of elven blood. You are, to a degree, as well. I don't suppose you can tell me which of your parents was human?"  
  
"I don't understand, m'lady," I told her, "I'm human...aren't I?"  
  
"Child," she said with a sigh, "have you not noticed that you do not quite look as humans do?"  
  
"Well, I guess I'm a little different..." I admitted, "But I don't really look like elves, either."  
  
"...No matter, I suppose," she said dismissively, "We have work to do. Merania, the Master Dalerider wants you to serve at the party tonight. You have done very well as a cleaning-girl, but your new task isn't quite the same, and has a different set of rules. I am to teach you how to behave. The way in which you present yourself will give people an impression of the Dalerider family's power, and you are expected to make that a good impression."  
  
Despite a few difficulties that arose throughout the day, I thoroughly enjoyed these lessons. I'm certain that many people would have found practicing pouring water from a pitcher into a goblet or learning to walk gracefully with the minimum of effort rather dull, but to me, this was a dream come true. What's more, I was encouraged to speak more than anyone had wished me to before, and even taught a few selected questions to ask. Finally, as day began melting into evening, Altaia led me to the manor's baths, and gave me a dress of light-gray satin to wear. In all my life, I had never felt so happy. It didn't matter to me that the garment was only mine for the night; I was finally wearing what my betters wore. For once, I felt almost like a lady.  
  
One question, though, still rang in my childish mind. The possibility that I was not human did not concern me. Indeed, I thought very seldom of my origins. I found myself to be a rather dull subject, and usually passed my time pondering the habits of other, more interesting people. My question had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with Altaia. Of course, this made asking it all the more daunting a task. I could only hope that the garment that made me feel like royalty would give me some fraction of regal courage.  
  
"M-m'lady?" I began.  
  
"Do not stammer, child," she said evenly, "Now, what is your inquiry?"  
  
"Why do you wear a veil?"  
  
"It is...complicated," she replied, "The most important reason is that I do not wish my face to govern my place in this world. I do not wish for people to listen to me simply because they judge me to be beautiful. If they would respect me, it must be for who I am in mind and soul."  
  
I did not have time to consider her works, as she handed me a pitcher filled with wine and quickly ushered me into the dining hall to begin my duties.  
  
The party went well, at first, and Lady Riane was in high spirits. She sat at the head of a table separate from that of her parents, and the rest of the seats there were filled with exquisitely-dressed young men. The majority of them were human, paying a great deal of attention to Riane, but among their ranks were a few elven men, who seemed rather bored with the celebration in general. Nobody chose to comment on this, likely because everyone knew that a human advising an elf on how to conduct himself would be like a child making a suggestion to a king. Even if it did have some wisdom in it, it was impolite, and would probably be ignored.  
  
Riane was dressed in white silk and golden velvet, adorned with more jewelry than I had ever previously seen in one place. I basked in her golden glow, amazed by the seeming change in her. I was used to her speaking in a shrill tone, but now she spoke sweetly, with a melodious laugh frequently sounding. I was somewhat disappointed that she didn't seem to realize I was around at all, but I was too pleased with all that had happened to mind terribly.   
  
As the night wore on and I began having to refill goblets at a much quicker pace, however, things began to deteriorate quickly. Twice, a pair of the human boys had to be separated by Lord Dalerider when they decided to fight each other to settle some argument. Their talk became sometimes heated, sometimes shaping into a form of joviality that would have been called foolish rambling if it were not for their station.   
  
"I knew this would happen," one of the elves said quietly, to no one in particular, "the drinks are catching up with them."  
  
"...Hey, you! Come over here," one of the humans called.  
  
"Yes, m'lord," I said, obediently going to him, "Is there something you'd like?"  
  
"Just stay there for a minute," he ordered me, turning to one of his friends, "Now, take a good look at her. She looks like she's fourteen, maybe, but it's a pretty good bet that she's older than Riane, there. That's one of the things about half-elves, they don't age quite as fast. So, you marry a half-elf, your wife looks a hell of a lot better than everyone else's, even when she's sixty. Plus, people don't usually give 'em much respect, so they aren't as stuck-up as regular elves."  
  
"I recommend holding your tongue," a nearby elf said, narrowing his eyes, "You seem to be quite drunk, and that's quite a dangerous thing when combined with the fact that you never had any idea what you were talking about in the first place."  
  
"Now, there you go," the human continued, waving a hand in my direction, "You'd never get a reaction like that from this little beauty. The only good thing about marrying some noble girl would be having the money to hire servants like her-"  
  
"Get over here, Halfie!" Riane shrieked, her face reddening as she listened to the boy.  
  
"Of course, m'lady," I said happily. Something about the boy's praise had made me uneasy, and I was always thrilled when I could do anything to help Riane. I was oblivious to the fact that she was about to play executioner.  
  
"You stupid little mongrel dog!" She shouted, standing and delivering an openhanded slap to my face, "What good are you supposed to be, anyway?! You must think you're SO special now, with your lavender hair, and silver-tinted skin, and those damned pointed ears...well, you're wrong! You're a freak, an unnatural beast, and you're fired, too!"  
  
"M-m'lady? Riane? What do you mean?" I asked, my eyes widening in horror and confusion.  
  
"Don't take that tone with me, you ungrateful rat!" She hissed, "Get out of my sight before I have you exterminated with the rest of the vermin!"  
  
"Riane Dalerider, that is quite enough!" Her father scolded, clamping a hand down on his daughter's shoulder.  
  
"No! This is MY party, and she ruined it!" Riane persisted, "I always told you to get rid of her, and if you don't this time, I'll...I'll run away from home, and be eaten by a dragon, and you'll never see me again!"  
  
"Such a punishment," one of the elves muttered, "I apologize to you, Lord Dalerider, but I've had quite enough of listening to your daughter abuse that poor girl. I'm going to take my leave."  
  
Several of the other guests began to leave as well, but it did nothing to calm Riane.  
  
"Fire her, daddy!" She commanded, "Throw her the bitch out! I hate her, we shouldn't have any servants that are prettier than me!"  
  
My lip quivered as Altaia took me from the hall, had me change back into my regular clothes, all without a single word. Lord Dalerider was likewise silent on the ride back to my home. He looked worn and old as he helped me down from the saddle that night, and escorted me to my room. It was he who closed the door, and then began speaking to my aunties in a hushed tone. I didn't need to listen to know what he was saying.  
  
I flung myself down on the straw-stuffed mattress, not bothering to muffle the sound of my crying. Oblivious as I was to the workings of the world, I knew that I would not be asked back to the Manor. The bruise that was beginning to come to my face wasn't nearly as painful as the realization that Riane had never liked me, and could, in fact, hardly stand me. She had been jealous of me all along; the one I had thought to be so perfect felt threatened by my very presence. It was a bitter pill to swallow.  
***  
  
A/N:...and there ends the first chapter. I promise the rest won't be this slow. ^^;; Once again, feel free to ask any questions, and please review! 


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